The 12 Dates of Christmas
by CherrybombLuv
Summary: Tired of being alone, Bella decides to put herself out there and, for the first time in a year, goes on a string of dates in the hopes of finding the one-hopefully in time for Christmas. She soon finds out that it's harder than it looks. Or is it? A short fic about finding love when you least expect it. A/H
1. Chapter 1: The Vegan

_Hello, everyone! Sorry I disappeared for a while again. I've been going through a lot, and kind of lost my writing mojo for a bit. But, after watching A LOT of **Gilmore girls **and seeing some of my favorite TV characters going through a lot of bad dates to get to the good ones, I decided to get back into the swing of things with this little fic. _

_(*Update not even five minutes after I posted: forgot to mention this story has no beta, so all mistakes, though I try to fix them all, are completely mine.*)_

_This fic will be short, sweet and (hopefully) funny. Each chapter will be around 2k and will have very little angst. _

_So, without further adieu, here is **The 12 Dates of Christmas.**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 1: The Vegan<strong>

I hate Christmas.

I know, I know, that's a terrible thing to say. Who hates Christmas? It's the happiest time of the year, you get to spend time with your loved ones, there's great music, you get to give and receive presents, blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all before.

I didn't always hate Christmas, but I think it all started when I was about nine and caught dad eating the cookies I set out for Santa. He felt bad, but it wasn't his fault that I was a little shit and decided to sneak downstairs to try and catch a sight of Santa Claus.

I got over it fairly quickly. Though every year after that wasn't very good either.

There was the year when I was fourteen and had strep throat. When I was sixteen, I had a broken arm. When I was twenty, I got the flu.

And now, I'm twenty-eight years old and still haven't gotten married. Hell, I haven't even had a date in almost a year.

That's all going to change starting with a date for the annual Christmas Eve party at work.

I've never been one for New Year's resolutions; this time, though, I'm determined to lead a happier life, and I've decided that means I need to find someone to spend the rest of my life with.

Hopefully.

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><p>"Spinach, spinach, spinach... where the hell is it?"<p>

I walk back and forth in front of the produce section of the grocery story, searching for the item that I need. I pass by the bell peppers for the third time and still can't find it.

"Damn it!" I grumble a little louder than I meant to.

"What are you looking for?" I hear next to me. I look up to see a very handsome man smiling at me. His blue eyes are sparkling and his teeth are very white and straight. He almost looks like a surfer. I don't normally go for long hair, but his blonde ponytail suits him and I find myself grinning back.

"Hi," I say, gesturing at the vegetables in front of me. "I was hoping to find some fresh spinach to make into a salad for dinner, but I can't find it."

"Ah, that's what I came for, too," he tells me, lifting his hands, palms up, and slapping them gently down at his sides. "They're out."

"Damn again," I say, frowning. "Well, I guess I'll just settle for bagged spinach."

"Here, this is a good brand," he says, picking up a package of the leafy greens and holding it out to me. "Or at least I think it is."

"Thanks, um..."

"James," he says, now holding out his hand for me to shake.

"Bella," I tell him, letting his slender hand envelop my own.

I'm about to walk away with my cart when James calls out to me.

"Hey, how about instead of a spinach salad for dinner, you come out with me," he says.

"Oh, um..." I hesitate, biting the corner of my thumbnail. I think about his offer and then remember my resolution. "Okay. There's an amazing restaurant over on third. They have great salads. What do you say to tonight at seven?"

"Sure, sounds good to me," he says, raising a hand in farewell. "See you tonight, Bella."

"See ya, James," I say.

I walk toward the breakfast aisle with a goofy grin on my face and a little skip in my step.

That wasn't so hard.

* * *

><p>At ten to seven, I walk into my favorite Italian restaurant, La Botte, wearing my favorite little black dress with the scoop neckline and purple high heels. A sparkly beaded bag hangs from my shoulder, the little silver jewels glittering in the low light of the lobby. The thing looks like a five year old's dress up play toy, but I love it. I found it at a flea market for fifty cents; it's my lucky purse.<p>

"Hello, I'm meeting someone here," I say to the pretty girl with strawberry blonde hair at the hostess desk. Her name tag reads Tanya. "Could you tell me if he's here yet? His name is James."

"Let me check," she says cheerfully, scanning her pencil down a list of names and pursing her pink lips. She then shakes her head. "No one has made any reservations under that name. I can seat you, if you'd like. It's Saturday, so it's going to get pretty busy soon."

"Yes, please," I say eagerly. "Table for two."

I follow the girl's swishing skirt to a table situated near the center of the dining room. She wasn't kidding—the place is already filling up. I let my gaze wander around and can only count three empty tables, including the one she's leading me to.

As I wait for James, I peruse the menu and come up with a few things to recommend to my date. He might like the steak, or maybe even just a chicken Caesar salad. One of my favorites is the raviolis that come with a long list of fillings to choose from.

"Hi, there."

I look up to see the waiter standing beside me. I blink once, slowly, surprised by what I see.

The man before me is nothing like who I thought would be waiting my table tonight. Instead of the usual suit and tie that most of the men wear when they work at this particular place, he's wearing just a plain long-sleeved white button up (no tie), black Dickie's pants, and black leather boots. His hair is all different shades of reds, browns and golds and unlike the other employees here, it's left in complete disarray.

"I'm Edward, and I'll be your server tonight," he says smoothly, his voice soft and polite and not at all bored and stiff sounding like most people I've met at places like this. "What can I start you off with? Some wine? Maybe some _bruschetta _to start with?"

God, the way his tongue rolls over the Italian appetizer makes me want to melt.

"Um, I'm meeting someone," I say, my statement coming out more like a question and my voice squeaking like a little girl's.

"No problem," he says with a shrug. "I'll come back."

I catch myself staring as he walks away, my eyes glued to that perfectly shaped ass, and-

"Bella!"

James appears in front of me, making me jump a little in surprise. He looks just the same as this afternoon, with the exception that he changed from a t-shirt into a polo shirt. His hair is perfectly slicked back; it shines golden under the low lights.

"Hey, James," I answer just a beat too late, my mind still reeling at the sight of our waiter.

"Am I late?" James asks, taking the seat opposite me.

"Nope, I was early," I assure him.

We both open our menus and spend a few awkward silent moments looking through them. My eyes stare blankly at the page in front of me—I already decided what I wanted before I even got here.

"Hmm," I hear James hum, and I glance up over the top of my menu.

"Everything looks good, doesn't it?" I smile, but he frowns.

"I had hoped we were going to some place... different," he says slowly, his frown deepening the longer he reads.

"Oh?" I ask, not sure what he's getting at.

"Yeah," he says, sighing and shaking his head. "I'm a vegan, so I don't normally go to places like this."

"Oh," I repeat, my eyes widening. "Well, we could go somewhere else, if you'd like."

Before he can answer, Edward shows up again.

"I see your date has shown up," he says, nodding to James. "How are you this evening, sir?"

"Fine," James grunts, and without a moment's thought, he continues on to order. "I'll have a green salad, plain, no dressing, and a water."

"You got it," Edward says, ignoring the sour puss at the table, and turning to me with a smile. "And for the lady?"

"I'll have a glass of white wine, and-"

"Shouldn't you be writing this down?" James interrupts.

"Got it all up here," Edward says, tapping his temple with two fingers. He then rests his hands on his hips and I notice a sliver of ink poking out under his sleeves.

"Um, and the spaghetti and meatballs. Please," I add.

"Coming right up," Edward says cheerfully before walking away to put in our order.

"So..." I start, after nearly a full minute of silence. "How long have you been a vegan?"

"Since I was twelve and my dad brought me to a slaughter-house," he says grumpily, and then leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Do you know how many innocent baby cows get murdered every year?"

"No, but I can tell you how many pairs of shoes are in my closet right now," I offer, giving a small smile.

"Do you own any leather?" James asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowing, making his once clear baby blues look dark and menacing.

"No?" I say uncertainly, knowing full well that my new favorite boots are made out of fine Italian leather.

"Hmph."

I try to make some more small talk over the next fifteen minutes, but every answer James gives is punctuated by a huff or a sigh as he glares at the people around us enjoying their meals. At one point, when a couple near us is served a steak, he actually very rudely states that he hopes they enjoy their "dead carcass on a plate".

I can't be any happier than I am when our food arrives.

"All right, here's the green salad, no dressing," Edward says, expertly balancing a large tray on one hand as he sets a bowl in front of James with the other. "White wine, and spaghetti."

"Thank you," I say sincerely, picking up a fork so I can dig in.

"If you'd like, I can move the salt and pepper shakers, and we can move your food to the middle so that you can share a meatball, Lady and the Tramp style," Edward jokes, making me giggle.

"No thanks," James says, emphasizing the second word.

"Just thought I would offer," Edward says with a chuckle as he steps away. "Please, enjoy."

We sit in huffy silence again. I have a hard time eating due to the way James keeps shooting me dirty looks. Quicker than anticipate, my glass of wine is empty. About halfway through my meal, I give up eating and put my fork down, tired of my _date's _attitude.

"Tell me about yourself, James," I say, and then quickly go on. "What do you do for work? Do you enjoy what you do?"

"I work at the vitamins store across town," he says grumpily.

"Neat," I say lamely. I tap my finger on the tabletop for a moment and try to come up with another question I can ask about him, hoping to loosen him up. "Any brothers or sisters?"

"No," he says, wrinkling his nose as another meat dish passes by.

"How are we doing over here? Are we slowing down?"

Edward is at my side again, still keeping the mood light and pretending that I'm not sitting with the world's worst date.

"Could I get a box, please?" I ask, pointing at my leftover dinner.

"Sure, I'll box that up for you," he says, taking the plate. "Any dessert tonight?"

"Yes, I'll have a cannoli," I tell him as he takes James' barely touched plate. As he takes it, I see James scoff and shake his head for the hundredth time this evening. "What?" I ask.

"You do know that they torture the cows when they steal their milk, don't you?" he asks heatedly.

My eyes widen in amazement and then swiftly narrow into anger.

"I'll take that dessert now, Edward," I say quietly.

"Are you sure?" he asks; I can't tell if he means about the dessert or handling James.

"Yes, I'm sure," I tell him.

Once he's left, I turn on James.

"What is wrong with you?" I demand. "You've been nothing but rude and uncooperative all evening! This is supposed to be a _date._ You know, two people going out, getting to know each other—hobbies, family life, dislikes _and_ likes."

"Sorry, but if I had known what a monster you are-"

"A monster?" I ask with a snort.

"Yes," he snaps, his face reddening. "I thought I was going out with a fellow animal lover. I _thought_ you were a vegan, or at least a vegetarian."

"What made you think that?" I question, my brow furrowing.

"You were buying a salad for dinner," he says as though its obvious. When he doesn't elaborate, I let out a small chuckle.

"Sorry to disappoint you," I say, shaking my head. "But here, I'll give you the number of my friend, Victoria. She's a vegetarian, so I'm sure it won't be too hard to convert her."

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, a scrap of paper and a pen. I locate the number I want in my contacts list and scribble it down before sliding it across the table. James looks at it for a moment and then stuffs it in his pocket.

"Nice meeting you, Bella," he says, standing. "Too bad it couldn't work out."

"Yeah, right," I mumble when he's out of earshot.

I toss my napkin on the table and sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Hey, where's Romeo," Edward says when he's back at my table with my to-go box and a cannoli.

"He just wasn't the one," I say, sighing dramatically. I look down at my plate and smile. "That's a lot of chocolate."

"I make the cannolis here myself," he says proudly, hands on his hips again. "I put extra chocolate syrup and chocolate chips."

"I see that," I laugh, picking up my spoon.

"Eh, you seemed like you needed it," he says, and then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. "Now, I hate to say it, but your, uh, date didn't pay the bill.'

"Oh, shit," I grumble, setting my spoon down and pulling out my wallet. "How much do I owe?"

"You know what," he says after a moment of thought. "It's on the house tonight."

"What?" I ask incredibly as he tears up the bill. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"Don't worry about it," he says, shoving the pieces of ripped paper in his pocket. "I have an in with the boss."

I try not to imagine what kind of _in_ he could have, and just smile again.

"Thanks," I tell him, holding up a spoonful of ricotta filling and chocolate. "This is amazing, by the way."

He grins and as he walks away, I swear I hear him say, "Right back at ya."

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 2 will be posted tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Drop me a line and let me know! And thanks for reading!<em>


	2. Chapter 2: The Talker

_Hello, again! Chapter 2, as promised! I wrote the majority of this on my lunch break at work and though I did go over it, I'm sure there are a few mistakes, but I didn't want to keep picking at it. I thought it would be best just to post it. Everyone had some great thoughts about the first chapter so I hope everyone likes this one just as much._

_Enjoy!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 2: The Talker<strong>

I hang up the phone and then hang my head, burying my face in my hands.

"Why did I just agree to that?" I groan.

My best friend, Alice, just called me after somehow hearing about my date last night and my resolution. She was asking (okay, more like demanding) to give out my number to a couple of guys she knew that she thought I'd get along with. And when Alice wants something, you give in to her or suffer the consequences.

The man I was being set up with tonight was supposed to have a lot on common with me. According to Alice, he liked to read, came from a small family, enjoyed spending time in nature and had even read a few of the articles I wrote for the local journalism newspaper I worked for.

Alice assured me he was also a meat-eater.

* * *

><p>I spend my afternoon cleaning my small apartment and go over a few of my newest pieces I wrote before sending them off to my editor. One of them is about Ebola (yuck) and the other is about the new discoveries of the health benefits of coffee.<p>

At six, I take a shower and change into my new red dress. I pair it with my red pumps (the ones that Alice calls my "hooker heels") and red lipstick to match. To break up the color a bit, I wrap a wide black belt around my waist and, of course, I grab my lucky sparkly purse.

Because Alice knows I love it, I'm meeting my date—Jacob—at La Botte. On my way there, I pray that tonight will be better than last night.

Like usual, I'm early and the hostess is once again Tanya. Surprisingly, she remembers me. Though, I suppose that's something her job requires.

"Hello, again," she smiles when I reach her. "You're back!"

"Yeah, I thought I'd have better luck in round two," I tell her, making her giggle.

"I'll keep my fingers crossed," she says, tucking her silky hair behind her ear. "What's the name tonight?"  
>"Jacob," I tell her, and when she doesn't find the name on her list, she offers to take me to a table.<p>

Once seated, I look around curiously, wondering who my waiter could be. Just as I'm hoping it might be Edward again, the man himself saunters up to my table.

"Back for more spaghetti?" he asks, his smile mischievous. "Or have you converted to vegan-ism?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," I moan, covering my face with my hands. "That was the worst date I've ever had."

"Oh, I've had worse," he says when I look up.

"Do tell?" I request, raising a brow.

"Maybe on our first date," he says, winking. I feel my face turn red and look down, placing my thumbnail between my teeth nervously. He chuckles. "I'll bring you a glass of wine."

I mutter my thanks quietly and as soon as he's out of sight, I smooth my dress and scrunch my curls to give them extra bounce. I consider checking myself out in the back of my spoon when I see a man walking toward my table.

He's good looking, there's no doubt about that, with his tan skin, dark hair and blinding smile; I also can't help but notice how tall he is. I'm sure that if I were to stand up, he'd tower ridiculously high over my five foot four frame, maybe even by a foot. Probably higher, actually.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, straightening the collar of his dark blue shirt and offering his hand. "I'm Jacob."

"Bella," I say; his massive hand makes my own look like a child's as we shake. "And you're not late, I'm always early so I give people that illusion."

He chuckles; the sound is deep and warm.

"What's good here?" he asks, picking up his menu. "I've never been."

"Well, I-" I began, but he talks over me.

"I mean, I've been to Italian food before, but never someplace this nice," he says, his eyes on the list of food. "I love it, though. I eat it all the time. Sometimes once a week! Well, mainly I eat pizza,. My favorite thing to order is thick crust with extra cheese. Every once in a while I go wild and even melt my own on it. I guess you couldn't really call pizza Italian food, could you? Unless you get it from a place like this! Have you ever had the pizza here? Is it good?"

"Um, I dunno," I mumble meekly and he's off again.

"Man, I love pizza," he says, and then his eyes light up. "Oh! Doctor Pepper! I love Doctor Pepper! Almost as much as Mountain Dew, but my roommate says that I really shouldn't have that much sugar at once."

He laughs loudly, causing a waiter at a nearby table to spill the water his trying to pour. It splashes all over the table and onto the floor.

"I can imagine," I say, smiling politely. Thankfully, Edward appears to take our order.

"Good evening, folks," he says, hands on his hips again. "What are we having tonight?"

I open my mouth to order but Jacob beats me to it.

"I think we're going to share an extra large cheese pizza," he says, grabbing the menu out of my hands and handing it along with his own to Edward. "I'll take a Doctor Pepper, and keep the refills coming!"

Edward looks at me with a raised brow and I smile grimly.

"Yeah, keep my refills coming too," I say.

"Sure thing," he grins, and as he walks away, I hear him chuckle.

While we wait for the pizza to arrive, Jacob regales me with how his day went (good, especially when he found that Snickers bar in the bottom of his gym bag), how he had cold pizza for breakfast, and that he only has two more finals before the semester was over.

"Wait," I say, holding my hand up to stop him as he describes the boring teacher he has for his music appreciation class. "You're just taking a few extra night classes, right?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, his thick brows knitting together.

"I mean, you're just taking a few classes after work, right?" I continue.

"Nope, I'm a senior now," he says happily. "I just turned twenty-one. Finally legal, yeah!"

He ends his statement with a fist pump and then downs his second glass of soda. I sigh heavily and gulp down my first glass of wine, definitely ready for my second.

Twelve slices of pizza later—that's two for me and ten for Jacob—and the conversation still hasn't steered toward myself, but Jacob is still going strong. I now know just about everything about his life in college, the last three girls he dated, how many miles he's hiked and how many books he's read. That's an easy one to remember: none. He has, however, read every Spiderman comic known to man and the articles of mine he read was while he was on the toilet and desperate for some reading material because he didn't have his phone handy so that he could play Candy Crush Saga.

"And then—oh, hang on." He pauses in his story about his awesome game of beer pong last weekend to check a text message on his phone. He reads it and then lets out a whoop. "Bella, the guys just got together for another beer pong tournament. Wanna come? It should be sick!"

"As tempting as that sounds, I really should get going," I tell him, acting as though I'm genuinely disappointed. "But tonight was great."

"Yeah, it totally was," he says, missing my sarcasm. "Night, Bella."

He leaves before I have a chance to say goodbye. I lean over and bang my head on the table a few times, felling both ancient and idiotic after going out with a guy that could be my little brother.

"Now, he was a keeper."

Edward is at my table, bill in hand again. I groan at the sight of it and reach into my purse.

"Did he skip out on it too? Damn it," I say, pulling out my debit card.

"No, he paid," Edward says, and then holds up a crisp twenty. "Big spender, this one."

"Geez," I mutter, rolling my eyes. "How much was the total?"

"Only about forty," he says, accepting the two tens I fish out of my wallet.

"Wait, what about the wine?" I ask, looking down at my glass. It had been refilled three times, and Edward didn't skimp.

"I just charged you for half a glass," he says, giving me an apologetic look. "Two nights in a row deserves some free booze."

"Thanks," I tell him as I stand.

I get to my feet and then wobble a little; a hand shoots out, gripping my arm to steady me.

"Are you okay?" Edward asks, sounding concerned.

"Oops, I forgot to drink water," I giggle, feeling tipsy. "I always forget to drink water."

"Didn't your date offer to drive you home?" Edward says, clearly annoyed.

"No," I say slowly.

"But he knew how much you had." Edward narrows his eyes.

"I'm sure he did, but he's a college boy, so he probably thought it was no biggie," I shrug, making Edward snort.

"College boy, wow," he says, shaking your head before turning serious again. "Do you need me to drive you home?"

"I barely know you," I point out, and his grip on my arm lessens.

"Right," he says with a single nod. "Do you have anyone to call?"

"Yeah, my friend can come get me."

He nods again, his gaze lingering on mine. His expression is so soft and his eyes...his eyes are the deepest green I've ever seen. They're not blue green, or olive green... they're like forest green. Not the crayon, but the kind you see on the leaves while you walk through the giant trees of-

I shake my head, like I'm trying to shake away my thoughts, and tear my eyes away from his. He clears his throat quietly and then finally lets go of me.

"Don't worry, I'll be okay," I say quietly, pulling my phone out and pressing the speed-dial to call Alice.

"Be safe, Bella," he whispers.

I wait for my ride on the sidewalk outside and decide to have a piece of gum to clean the taste of wine and pizza from my mouth. I put my hand in my purse for the package I know is in the little zipper section of the bag, and my hand hits a square cardboard box. Looking down, I find a to-go box that looked just like the one my spaghetti was put in, only slightly smaller.

I pull it out and pop the lid open.

Inside is a cannoli.

* * *

><p><em>Isn't he the sweetest? I'm sure you all know who put the dessert there. FYI: Cannolis are one of my most favorite things! The restaurant in the story is a real one from my hometown (run by a family from Italy, the owners are Mama and Nick. Such a cute couple! And it's pronounced La Boat-ay. The 't' is more like a 'd' and the last part is like saying the letter 'a'. Hope that's not too confusing!) and they make awesome cannolis. <em>

_Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow!_


	3. Chapter 3: The Nerd

_Gotta make this quick-I'm late for bed! Again, I wrote a lot of this at work, and my evening was a bit busy so I didn't get to this as quickly as I wanted, and though I have it a quick edit, I know there's a bunch of mistakes. Hope there aren't too many. _

_Oh, and I LOVE Harry Potter. I'm obsessed. So don't take what I write in this chapter to mean I don't_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 3: The Nerd<strong>

I'm sitting in the living room of my apartment, reading, when someone bangs on my front door. It scares me so bad that I drop my book. Grumbling, I pick it up on my way to see who it is.

"Tell me about your date last night!" Alice asks excitedly the moment I open the door.

I laugh at the sight of my little friend, short dark hair pinned back neatly, ruffled skirt and blouse both an alarming shade of magenta, and flat shoes that somehow make her look even shorter than she is. She's bouncing on the balls of her feet, her dramatically made up face alight with excitement.

"There's not much to tell," I say, leading her to the couch. She silently closes the door and flits along behind me.

"Did you like him?" she asks as we sit down. I fold my legs beneath me and she copies the move. "He was cute, right?"

"Well, yeah but..."

"Well, what?" she asks, sensing my hesitation.

"All he did was talk," I tell her, and when she doesn't seem to catch on, I expand my answer. "About himself."

"Aw, he did?" Alice asks, sticking out her lower lip in a pout. "I didn't get that from him the last few times I saw him."

"Where did you meet him?" I ask, tilting my head curiously.

"He came into my design studio a few times to help his mom redecorate her house," she says.

"And did he tell you what he does for a living?" I ask.

"He said something about being an athlete," she shrugs. "I figured that was something for you to find out when you went on a date."

"He's an athlete, all right," I say with a chuckle. "He's an athlete with a scholarship... still in college."

"Oh shit!" Alice gasps, placing a well-manicured hand over her mouth. "How old is he?"

"Just old enough to drink legally," I say, and her eyes get impossibly wider. "You really didn't know how young he was?"

"No, I didn't," she says, lowering her hand but still looking horrified. "He just seemed really sweet. A little goofy, but nice enough. Did he at least act older than he was?"

"Let's put it this way," I say. "His favorite sport to play is beer pong."

Alice groans and tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling.

"I'm the worst friend ever," she groans.

"No, you're not, Alice," I say, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "You had good intentions."

"Do you wanna know the other guy I wanted to set you up with?" she asks, lowering her head and squinting at me, as though afraid I might say no.

"Sure," I tell her, putting on a brave face.

"Okay, well, it's Jasper's cousin, so I know for a fact that he's our age," she says quickly, her fear totally forgotten. "And you know my boyfriend is super hot, meaning that there's good genes in the family."

She winks at me, making me laugh.

"He reads a lot, too," she says, holding her hand out to stop me from asking what specifically he reads. "Now, I don't know what exactly that means, but I do know that the few times I've met him, he has his nose in a book. The last one I remember seeing him with was one that I've seen you read. Oh, what was it? It was kind of about a house, and two people that loved but hated each other."

"Wuthering Heights?" I ask, impressed but skeptical. Normally, that's just a book woman prefer to read.

"Yes!" she exclaims, snapping her finger.

"How do you know he's not gay?" I ask; she rolls her eyes.

"Because when I saw him last year at Christmas, he told me about how he just broke up with his girlfriend _because_ he couldn't get her to read," she says and then leans forward, grabbing my hands eagerly. "What do you think? Will you go out with him?"  
>I bite the corner of my lip. He doesn't sound half bad, so after a bit of thought, I nod.<p>

As Alice squeals and gets out her phone to tell Jasper to call him, I shake my head.

This one has got to be better than the last two.

* * *

><p>After Alice leaves, I go to the fridge and pull out what's left of last night's cannoli (which is really only a few bites) and sit down with it at the table. Before taking a bite, I look down at it.<p>

The hour I spent very slowly eating the sweet confection, one miniscule spoonful at a time, I tried to figure out what it meant. I'm sure Edward put it in my purse when I wasn't looking, but why? Did he feel sorry for me? Was he interested in me?

A million questions swam around my head and by the time I went to bed, I wasn't any closer to an answer.

Maybe I'd find out the next time I saw him.

* * *

><p>Ten to seven and I'm at La Botte, wearing my royal blue dress and simple ballet flats. My silver purse dangles from the back of my chair, the sparkles occasionally catching the light and sending rainbows across the table cloth hanging by my leg.<p>

Every time I hear someone walk into the restaurant, I look up, wondering if it's Ben, my date. After nearly putting a crick in my neck turning so quickly to check, I realize what I'm doing is stupid, seeing as I have no clue what he looks like.

Finally, Tanya leads a man to my table. He's dressed plainly in slacks and a dress shirt with a skinny tie. His features almost make me think of a stereotypical nerd, with his neatly combed hair and square-framed glasses, but his dimpled cheeks and five-o-clock shadow contradict that image.

"You must be Bella," he says when he reaches the table. "I'm Ben. It's so nice to meet you."

"Same here," I tell him sincerely.

"I've never been here before," he says, looking around as he takes his seat. "I like the feeling here. Is this your first time too?"

"No, actually," I say, wary that I'm about to get a repeat of the other night.

"What's good here?" he asks, opening his menu.

"Just about everything," I say honestly. "I love the manicotti. The chicken is good, too."

"What about the filot mignon?" he asks, pointing at the dish listed.

"Oh, that's amazing," I tell him.

"All right, I'll get that," he says, smiling and setting his menu down.

"I'll get the manicotti," I say, relieved that he's not a vegetarian or vegan.

I look up and see Edward rushing up to our table, stuffing the corner of a dish rag in his back pocket. I find myself grinning involuntarily.

"Sorry I'm late," he says, hands on hips like usual. "Had a bit of a crisis in the kitchen that I had to take care of."

"That's okay," I tell him.

"So, what's for dinner tonight?" he asks, and when Ben holds his hand out to me in invitation, Edward turns his attention my way.

"I'll have the manicotti, please," I say. "But could I have it with the white sauce instead?"  
>"No problem," he says, nodding. "Any wine to drink tonight?"<p>

I glance at Ben and then back to Edward.

"Iced tea is good," I tell him, confident that I won't need anything stronger.

"Filet mignon for me," Ben says. "And just water for me, please."

"You got it," Edward says, and he's off to put in our order.

"Tell me about yourself," Ben says when it's just the two of us and I smile, actually happy to talk about myself.

When our drinks come, as we eat our salad, and as our main dish arrives, Ben and I talk. We start with the small stuff—families, jobs, likes and dislikes—but soon move on to books. For the most part, we've both read all the same books, with the exception that I've read slightly more than he has.

Halfway through our dinner, and we're still discussing things we've read. The conversation pauses briefly as we both chew a forkful of food that sat waiting while we discussed Herman Melville and just as I'm taking a sip of tea, he asks another question.

"Have you read Harry Potter?"

The question comes out so fast that I barely have time to think. I choke on my drink a little, and after I'm done sputtering into my napkin, I look up at him with watery eyes.

"Um, what?" I ask, wondering if I misheard him.

"Harry Potter, the series," he repeats. "Have you read it?"

"Yeah, I read it," I say slowly. "In high school. I don't remember much, though."

"Which was your favorite?" he asks excitedly, his dark eyes popping.

"I guess the third one," I say, trying to recall the title. "It was the prisoner one."

"Prisoner of Azkaban," he tells me, leaning forward a little. "I love that one, too. I think Order of the Phoenix is the best. There's so much action in it. And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returns."

He whispers the name and shudders a little.

"What was his real name again?" I ask curiously. "I never knew how to pronounce it."

"No, I can't say it," he says, shaking his head vehemently.

"But... wasn't he defeated in the end?" I ask, remembering at least that much.

"True. Okay," he says, taking a deep breath. "His name...was Voldemort."

He shudders again and I can't help but thinking to myself _oh, crap_.

"I was reading something the other day," he says, speaking very fast and leaning over the table again. "It's a theory that Snape is a vampire and that he never was truly on the side of good."

"That's... interesting," I say uncertainly. "I must have missed that one."

"If you think about it, it makes sense," he says animatedly. "If You-Know-Who had never targeted Lily, and went for Neville's parents instead, would he have ever turned spy for Dumbledore? I mean, she was really all he cared about, so if the threat was gone, why would he care? Why would he turn out to be good at all?"

"Probably wouldn't have?"

"Exactly! He never doubted being a Death Eater before, and then when there's a chance that Lily might die and all of a sudden, he's Dumbledore's man, through and through. It's weird, right?"

"Right," I say, not quite sure who he's talking about.

He then launches into a ten minute monologue about the love between Snape and Lily, pretty much none of which I understand, but I smile and nod anyways.

"Whoa, look at the time," Ben says after a while, looking at his watch. "Sorry, I don't mean to cut this date short, but I have to be up early for work tomorrow. I had a good time tonight, though."

"Me too," I say, which is half true. The part that I could follow along was good at least.

"Can I walk you to your car?" he asks, and when I nod he stands, pulls out his wallet and then drops a few bills on the table. "Shall we?"

I take his offered arm, glancing back at the table as we walk, glad to finally get a date that paid, even though I didn't understand the last twenty minutes of our date.

As I'm looking, I see Edward and Tanya at the server's station across the room. They're standing intimately close, and Edward has his hand on her arm. My brow furrows as I attempt to decipher their relationship. I don't know why but it upsets me to think that they're involved. I shake my head to rid myself of the thought, feeling silly for being interested in my server.

Ben and I are almost to the door when Edward and Tanya hug. His arms wrap around her shoulders and her hands clasp together behind his back.

I almost lose sight of him right as he looks up, his eyes locking with mine. I look away quickly, embarrassed to be caught staring, and let my date lead me to my car, where he kisses my cheek and asks to call me sometime.

It take me a few minutes into the car ride home for me to realize that one: I didn't get to spend much time talking to Edward tonight, and that actually makes me a little sad. And two: Ben forgot to ask for my number, meaning calling me would be difficult.

Awesome.

* * *

><p><em>Better AN next time. Its time to get in bed! Night! Hope you all liked this one!_


	4. Chapter 4: Coffee Break

_Gotta say one thing: have faith, everyone. This IS a Bella/Edward fic. _

_This is a little shorter than my other chapters, but there's plenty of Edward in it. Trust me._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 4: Coffee Break<strong>

I sit at my usual table at La Botte, feeling stupid. Why I'm still torturing myself with these dates is beyond me. Maybe I'm desperate. Sure feels like it. All I want is a date for the Christmas party. Is that so much to ask?

I look at my watch and see that my date is now ten minutes late. I'm guessing I'm either being stood up or there's traffic.

God, I hope it's the latter.

I wait another five minutes, but he still hasn't shown.

By seven-thirty, I begin to lose the last shred of hope I was holding on to.

At quarter to eight, my server, who's a little blonde girl named Jessica, comes up to my table.

"Still a no-show, huh?" she says sympathetically. "Would you like to order then?"

"No, thanks," I tell her, shaking my head sadly. "I'll just have coffee."

She brings me a decorative cup filled with the dark liquid and I sit and drink slowly, feeling pathetic. At least my date not showing was a good thing; sitting here alone could mean I avoided another horrible night, or so I tell myself to keep from spiraling down into misery.

"Um, Bella is it?" Jessica asks as she comes up to my table a while later.

"How'd you know?" I ask, vaguely curious.

"Tanya told me," she says, smiling sweetly and leaning over, her hand on the back of my chair. "I don't mean to rush you out of here, but we're closing in half an hour. Are you almost done?"

"Just one more cup?" I ask pleadingly, not wanting to go back to my empty apartment. "Please?"

"Sure," she says, fetching the coffee pot and pouring me one more.

I'm not sitting long when I hear my name being called again. This time, though, it's a male voice, one that I could recognize anywhere, even though I'd only heard it a few times.

"Bella, are you okay?" Edward says, jogging over to my table.

"What are you doing here?" I ask in amazement. "I thought it was your day off."

"It is, but Tanya called me," he says, sounding concerned as he drags the chair from the opposite side of the table over to sit next to me. "She said you've been here for hours. Were you meeting another date?"

"I was supposed to," I mumble, looking into my half empty coffee cup, hyper aware that if he were to lean any farther over the table, we'd be close enough to kiss. His right knee is already gently touching the side of my leg; the warmth of his body makes me realize how very cold I actually am. I shiver.

"He never showed up?" he asks, anger now lacing his tone. When I shake my head, he huffs. "Well, he's an idiot."

"No, I am," I whisper, shivering again. "I'm just a desperate idiot trying too hard to find a man. Maybe I haven't found anyone because I was meant to live alone forever. I would say I could adopt some cats, but I'm allergic. Maybe I can get some hamsters, or birds."

"Hey, hey, slow down," he says calmly, startling me as he drapes his jacket over my shoulders. "Of course you'll find someone."

"How did you meet yours?" I ask, only kind of wanting to know the answer. I still haven't looked up at him.

He chuckles, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head.

"I don't think I have yet," he says, and I look up in surprise.

I gasp when I finally see him.

I've never seen him without a long-sleeved shirt on, but since it's his day off, he's dressed in torn jeans and a black t-shirt. His exposed arms aren't uncovered, though. His skin is covered in different tattoos, some in black and others in vibrant colors. Nothing matches, either. There's a set of angel wings on one arm, right next to some initials. On his other arm, I see an intricate design with the tail of a dark green and yellow dragon above it, the body of the creature hidden beneath his short sleeve.

"Wow," I breathe, reaching out to touch but stopping just above another pair of initials.

"It's okay, you can touch," Edward says softly.

I run my fingers over the letters, tracing them slowly, marveling in the smoothness of his skin. Down his arm I move my hand, along a vine that wraps around part of his forearm, ending at the back of his hand. This was what I had seen the other night, the ink that had peeked out of the cuff of his sleeve.

"Do they all mean something?" I ask quietly. "Something special?"

"They do," he nods, then points to the letters I had first touched. "This is for my buddy that died in a motorcycle accident when I was around twenty."

"I'm so sorry!" I say automatically, retracting my hand and looking at him with wide eyes.

"It's okay," he says, his expression still warm and inviting. He points to the wings. "This is for my mother. She would have hated tattoos, but I wanted something to carry with me, to keep her memory close. She lost her battle to cancer when I was in high school."

"What about this one?" I ask, pointing a shaky finger at the initials TC, wondering if that's for Tanya.

"My sister got pregnant last year, but lost the baby," he says, his eyes clouding a bit. "He would have been named Timothy Cullen."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say again.

"Me too," he says, and then he's smiling again. "They're still trying. Now, tell me what's going on with you. Why are you still here?"

"I didn't want to go home yet," I say with a shrug, casting my eyes down again, this time out of embarrassment.

"Tanya was worried," he says. I glance up and see that he looks worried. "She said you didn't eat anything all night, that you just sat here, drinking coffee."

"Not hungry, I guess," I say with a sigh.

"Look," he says earnestly, leaning forward until he's in my sight line. "I know what this guy did was shitty, but don't let it get you down. There's someone out there for you; there's someone out there for everyone."

"I just don't get what I'm doing wrong," I say in exasperation, laying my hands on the table, palms up. "I went out with guys that I had a lot in common with, that I had nothing in common with, that I thought I'd just give a chance... and nothing."

"Sometimes it's not that simple," he says, giving a half shrug.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumble.

We sit in silence for a few moments and then I realize how very quiet it is. I look around; the place is empty.

"Oh, shit, you guys are closed!" I practically shout, jumping up. "I better leave, I don't want to get anyone in trouble-"

I frantically dig in my purse, looking for the cash I have. Edward chuckles and sets his hand on top of mine to stop me.

"Don't worry about it, it's just coffee," he says.

I look down from his ink covered wrist and back up to his deep green eyes. He gives me a crooked smile, and I swear I feel my knees go weak.

My stomach takes that exact moment to growl loudly, causing me to blush so fiercely that I'm sure Edward can feel the heat radiating off my skin.

"Not hungry, huh?" he asks, raising a brow. I give a sheepish smile and he laughs again. "Come on, I'll make you dinner."

"Wait, what?" I say, scrambling after him as he heads toward the kitchen. "It's okay, you don't have to do that, I'm sure all the cooks are gone. I can just eat something at home."

"Didn't you hear me right?" he asks, looking at me over his shoulder playfully. "I'm _making_ you dinner."

I open my mouth but then snap it shut again. I can see there's no arguing with him.

As we walk through the kitchen, Edward flips on the lights. The shiny silver surfaces glimmer in the sudden brightness. Pots and pans hang from a rack hanging from the ceiling, above a smooth, clean counter. I walk around curiously, having never been in a restaurant kitchen before. I find myself strangely fascinated by the eight burner stove and oven that looks as though it's actually three stacked on top of each other.

"Have a seat," Edward says as he rummages in the giant fridge.

"Where?" I ask, looking around for a chair or stool.

"There's empty counter space everywhere," he says, chuckling.

I shrug and then hoist myself up onto one of the counters, struggling a little with my short legs. I'm glad that he doesn't see me looking so silly.

"How about some pasta?" he asks, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil and then setting a large pan next to it.

I watch as he expertly adds different ingredients and spices to the pan and stirs the pasta so that it doesn't stick, all the while singing quietly under his breath. I listen closely and catch a few of the lyrics.

_Twenty, twenty, twenty four hours to go_

_ I wanna be sedated_

_ Nothin' to do, no where to go, oh_

_ I wanna be sedated_

"The Ramones?" I ask, grinning.

"Yeah," he says, sounding impressed, nodding at me over his shoulder as he stirs the concoction in the pan. "Do you like them?"

"They're awesome," I say. "They're a little before my time, but they're one of my favorites."

"Same here," he says. "What about The Sex Pistols?"

"They're great too, but I think I might like The Clash a little bit more," I say.

"I like them both about the same," he says, straining the noodles and then twirling some onto a plate. He spoons some of the sauce that he made over it. "There you go."

I take the plate and fork from him, looking down at it in amazement.

"How'd you know I like the white sauce better?" I ask, holding the plate still so he can grate some fresh parmesan cheese over the food.

"Because..." he pauses, looking embarrassed himself for once. "I've seen you come in a few times and you always ask for the white sauce over the red."

He fixes himself a plate, his eyes on his actions. I watch him in wonder.

"That's right," I say after a while. "I do like it better."

His eyes meet mine again, and we both smile.

"Who's Tanya?" I ask suddenly. He blinks a few times before answering.

"My cousin," he answers. "Why?"

"Just wondering," I say, spinning some noodles around my fork and lifting it to my chin.

"Okay," he says, laughing quietly.

* * *

><p><em>See? Nothing to worry about with Tanya. Totally innocent hug. See ya next time!<em>


	5. Chapter 5: Late Night

_Hey, everyone. I apologize for not updating yesterday. The preschool I work at was full of crazy kids all hyped up for the singing performance they were doing for their parents and then we had a potluck after, during which two kids' parents couldn't show up, so I had to watch them. So between wrangling 22 kids, keeping a happy face on for all the parents and then getting busy when I got home, I was beat and fell asleep watching TV with my laptop open around ten. I only woke up because our puppy was attacking my feet. THEN today, we had problems with our net. _

_I'll let you read now. Here's lots of Edward to make up for my absence._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 5: Late Night<strong>

"No way, you gotta see it."

"Sorry, I watch White Christmas every year. I'm not breaking tradition. It's a classic!"

"But A Christmas Story _is_ a classic!"

"It was made in the eighties."

"Hey, it's been a long time since the eighties. Even the nineties are considered old now."

Bella laughs and shakes her head. She's laughed a lot tonight—definitely more than she did while she had dinner with those _dates_.

We've been in the kitchen all night, talking. I can't remember the last time I sat down with a woman and had so much to talk about. We've covered pretty much everything. She's even more interesting than I thought she would be. Over the past few months, I saw her come into the restaurant, usually with this tiny girl, but it wasn't often enough for my liking. I wanted to see her expressive eyes up close, listen to her sweet laugh from only a few feet away, and so much more.

Tonight, I got to do all that.

"Okay, how about a trade-off?" I say, and she raises a brow at me. "I'll watch White Christmas with you, if you'll watch A Christmas Story with me. You can choose the snacks, too."

She purses her lips adorably, squinting her eyes as though it's a hard decision. Finally, she nods.

"All right," she says slowly. "You have a deal."

She holds out her small, slender hand to shake. I grip it gently, enjoying the softness of her skin more than I probably should. I hold her hand just a little too long; when I realize it, I let go quickly.

"Um..." I start, but her yawn makes me pause. "Getting tired?"

"A little," she admits with a shrug. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Geez, it's almost two in the morning," I tell her, glancing at my watch.

"I should probably go home," she sighs. When she starts to get up, I jump up and offer her my hand. She takes it gently. "Thanks."

"I'll walk you out," I say, wanting to place my hand on her back to lead her, but worrying that I've already been too touchy-feely tonight.

I stay close behind her as we walk through the dark dining room. God, she smells amazing, like flowers and warmth.

"Thanks for hanging out with me tonight," she says at the door, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"It was fun," I say honestly, unlocking the door for her. "Do you think you can get home okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she says. "Will you be here tomorrow? I was thinking of coming by for coffee, maybe."

"Yeah, I should be here," I say automatically.

"Cool," she says with a sleepy smile. "Night, Edward."

"Night Bella."

I stand in the doorway and watch until she's safely in her car and driving away. Then, I step back inside and close the door, locking it again.

I stand and stare into the dark, letting out a deep sigh.

I've been pining for this girl since the first time I saw her and then I get to meet her, finding out what a fantastic person she is. I have my chance but now... now I'm afraid I'm going to fuck it up.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, dude!"<p>

Emmett slaps my cheek, making me moan and reach out to try and punch him, but we've lived together long enough for him to know not to be within arms reach when I first wake up in the morning.

"Whadya want?" I mumble, opening my eyes blearily.

"I want to know why you crashed on the couch," he says, shoving my feet out of the way to sit down. "I would ask if you got so drunk last night that you couldn't make it to your bed, but you haven't had a drink in years, so that's out."

"I got in late," I say, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. "I was up all night talking with Bella."

"Talking, eh?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows crudely.

"Yes, Em, talking because she got stood up," I tell him irritably.

"Oh," he says, sounding disappointed. I roll my eyes.

"I'm not sure what to do, Em," I say after a few, my tone serious.

"About what?" he asks, noticing my somber mood.

"She's getting attached to me," I say, looking down at the tiny heart inked at the base of my left thumb.

"_She's_ getting attached or _you _are?" he asks, leaning forward a little on the word _you_.

"Both," I sigh, now tracing the heart, my eyebrows low over my eyes. "Maybe I should take the day off again."

"I know you, and I know that you don't take days off, unless absolutely necessary," Emmett points out.

"I know, but-"

"No _buts_," Emmett interrupts, holding up his hand. "Don't hide like a wuss."

"I know, I know," I mumble, stretching and then leaving to take a shower.

* * *

><p>I spend the afternoon debating whether or not I should go to work. It's true that I don't normally take days off, unless there's a family emergency or I'm contagious. But I don't do relationships, I haven't for years. I could always be friends with Bella, that's better than nothing.<p>

And now that I know her, there's no way I can turn my back on her now.

* * *

><p>I head into work just before the dinner shift starts. Tanya smiles when she sees me, not questioning my disappearance and then reappearance the previous evening.<p>

After I greet the cooks and see who's serving tonight, I help set up tables with shining silverware and neatly folded napkins. At six, I unlock the doors and ten minutes later, the first customers walk in.

I'll admit, I tried really hard for the first hour not to look for Bella, but by seven, my eyes are on the doors every two minutes, hoping she'll walk through that door. Maybe she'll be wearing blue again; that color looks so perfect next to her porcelain skin. She could come in wearing jeans for once; I bet she looks awesome in skinny jeans that hug her curves.

For a weeknight, it's starts getting incredibly busy, and after a while, my orders are backing up. I take a break from door watching to focus on my tables, but still find my eyes straying toward the door.

When Bella still hasn't shown up by eight, I check on my tables once more and then walk up to the hostess counter.

"Hey, cos, has Bella come in yet?" I ask Tanya just as she walks up to the counter to put money in the register.

"No, not yet," she says, winking. "But I'm keeping my eye out."

"Thanks," I say, smirking without feeling happy at all. I'm now starting to get worried.

I think for a bit that maybe she's giving up on me already, which I should let her do, if that's what she wants. But then I remember our talk last night, and how happy it made her and realize that she'd never just not show up. She'd at least come talk to me first about not wanting to hang out anymore. Just the thought makes me nervous.

When nine thirty rolls around and the last of the guests start clearing out, I start to really worry. I reach in my pocket for my cell a few times, intending to call Bella, each time knowing that I don't have her number but unable to think of what else to do.

The restaurant closes, but I still hold out hope that she'll show. Stubbornly, I sit at her usual table, staring at the door. I know I probably look creepy; honestly, I'm too anxious to care.

Around eleven, I get desperate and call Tanya. She answers the phone sounding like I woke her up.

"Tanya, I don't know what to do," I tell her, running my hand wearily through my hair. "I still haven't seen her yet. Something might be wrong and I have no way to know."

"Well," she says, pausing to yawn. "You could always check the reception book."

"What?" I say blankly.

"Yeah," she says, yawning again. "I thought about that when I came home. She was the one that picked to meet her dates there, so maybe she left a number when she called."

I jump out of my seat, nearly overturning the table in my haste, and race to the hostess counter. I throw open the large black book, turning frantically to the day before. I run my finger down the list of names, repeating her name as I look, as though I need to remember it.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," I chant, and when my finger lands on Tanya's neat writing that spells out her name, I grin and shout, "AHA! Tanya, you're a genius!"

"Great, can I go back to sleep now?" she says grumpily.

"Yeah, thanks!" I say, hanging up and then quickly punching in Bella's number.

I place the phone to my ear, tapping my fingers nervously on the reception book as the phone rings. It rings and rings and rings. Just as I'm thinking she won't answer, and that I should just hang up before it goes to voicemail, the ringing stops and I hear a shuffling sound.

"Hello?" Bella's raspy voice says.

"Bella?" I say. "It's Edward."

"Edward?" she says, then let's out a loud barking cough.

Crap, she's sick.

* * *

><p><em>So, my missing an update yesterday means you'll get a double update coming up soon. Probably on Monday. Tomorrow, I need to get some Christmas shopping done. Hope you enjoyed a lotta Edward! And don't worry, you'll soon find out why he's so wary to get into a relationship with Bella, despite REALLY wanting to. <em>


	6. Chapter 6: Sick

_Hey, guys! Sorry, I just noticed the time. I was busy shopping today so I didn't get to write so just after dinner, and then after we went to the store, I sat down to write without even looking at how late it was. I don't have work this week so I'm up later than I normally am on a Sunday. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 6: Sick<strong>

I groan and roll over, reaching for the box of tissues I left on the floor where I lay dying on the couch. When my fingers locate it, I can feel how light it is. A peek inside shows I'm out.

"Ugh, I hate using toilet paper to blow my nose," I groan at nobody.

I start to pick my tired body off the couch when I hear a light knock at the door. I stop sniffling and listen through my stuffed up ears, wondering if I imagined the sound. A few seconds later, it repeats, so I shuffle toward the door, pulling my fuzzy blanket tightly around me as I go. I hear the tail of the blanket drag along the floor.

I open the door, blinking rapidly at the bright light. Shielding my eyes with my hand, I stare blearily up at the shadow of a figure looming over me. I see the outline of chaotic hair against the luminous sky.

"Edward?" I croak.

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look like shit," he says with a chuckle.

"Shut up," I mumble, turning and leading him into my darkened apartment. I don't even care about the mess inside.

I walk past the pile of snotty tissues on the floor, setting myself back on the couch. I cover my face with my blanket and cough, which causes my throat to sear with pain. I moan and reach for my water bottle.

"Bella, how long have you been lying there?" Edward asks worriedly, coming to sit near me.

"Um, I woke up at like eight, and my throat hurt," I say, sniffling again. "I came out, got some water, and then went to sleep on the couch. I haven't really gone anywhere since then."

"Have you eaten?" he asks, looking around at the messy coffee table.

"I ate a few sleeves of saltines," I tell him sheepishly.

"Bella, that's not food," he scolds gently, reaching into the bag sitting at his feet that I hadn't noticed him carrying in. "I brought some stuff to make chicken soup. Can I raid your cupboard for the rest?"

"I don't have much, but sure," I tell him, shrugging. The movement makes my neck ache; there's a crick in it from sleeping at an awkward angle on the couch.

"Here, take these," he says, handing me a couple of aspirin, a bottle of water and a brand new box of tissues, which he rips open for me.

"What time is it?" I ask curiously as he heads toward the kitchen.

"Eleven-thirty," he tells me as I drink down the pills and blow my nose loudly.

"Geez," I mumble. "I think I've been asleep all day."

"That's good," he says, coming back into the room with a heating pad wrapped in a dish towel. "Lean forward, please."

I do as instructed, allowing him to place the warm pad on the back of my neck. I moan quietly at the instant relief. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see Edward's body stiffen.

"Do you want the TV on?" he asks, reaching for the remote. "What do you like?"

"You can just put on something stupid," I say, leaning back in content.

"Ah! Here you go," he says, setting down the remote. I smile as the theme song for Friends comes on.

I watch a whole episode before Edward comes back into the room, balancing a steaming bowl of soup on a towel on his hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of me, and sits down next to me again. He starts to reach toward me, but hesitates.

"Mind if I check your temperature?" he asks slowly.

"Um, sure," I say, wondering why he doesn't seem sure.

He places his cool hand to my forehead, his touch soothing to my warm skin. He growls quietly under his breath, frowning.

"You're running a fever," he says, sounding annoyed.

"Oh," I mumble stupidly.

"You're not wearing socks," he says suddenly, looking down at my feet.

"I'm not?" I ask, looking down too. "Oh. That explains why my feet are freezing."

"Sock drawer?" he demands, standing up so quickly that he scares me a little.

"Uh, top left," I call after him. He comes back moments later with my thickets pair of socks, the purple polka dot ones.

I lift my feet and let him slide the soft fabric over my toes.

"Now, eat your soup," he says. I look up at him and find him smirking.

"Yes, sir," I say, rolling my eyes.

He leaves again, coming back with the bathroom trash can. I watch in horror as he begins picking up my gross tissues covering the floor.

"No, you don't have to!" I say quickly, nearly knocking over my soup as I start toward him.

"It's okay, I'm being safe," he says with a smile, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers at me. He's wearing clear latex gloves. He laughs at my surprised expression. "I work in a restaurant, safety is key to keep from getting sick."

Once he's cleaned up the floor, he shrugs out of his jacket and plops down next to me. I glance over at his tattoos, noticing ink from this angle that I hadn't seen before. I want to ask about them, but my throat hurts too much to do a lot of talking.

But there's one thing that I have to know.

"Why did you come here?" I ask softly.

"You're sick," he says simply, crossing his arms.

"I know, but..." I pause, chewing on my thumbnail. "I dunno. No one has ever taken care of me before. I mean, my dad, when I was little, but that's it."

"Well, that's what friends are for, right?" he says, his tongue tripping over the word _friends._ I decide to come back to that later.

"Right," I say with a smile. He nods at my bowls so I pick up my spoon and begin eating.

The soup is amazing, full of vegetables, chunks of chicken and big noodles. I eat it faster than I mean to, and still feel hungry when I'm done. I look over at Edward, wanting to ask for more, but he's asleep.

Arms folded over my chest, head tilted slightly, he's snoring quietly. Watching him makes me tired myself, and I want to stretch out and go back to sleep but I don't want to wake him.

After another sip of water, I lie down on my side, squishing one of the throw pillows under my head. My toes rest against Edward's thigh and I sigh, feeling warm and cozy.

Though I slept most of the day away, within seconds, I drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>It feels like no time at all when I'm awake again. It's still dark out, but I can see an orange light peeking through the windows.<p>

I sit up slowly, feeling a strange weight on my feet. I grin as I look down and see Edward's hand resting on my ankle. During the night, he slid sideways a little so that his other arm is lying along the arm of the couch and his head is lolling to one side, almost touching his shoulder. Hopefully, he's not getting a sore neck.

Remembering my own neck, I reach back and feel the still warm skin. The heating pad slides off of me, and I set it on the coffee table, not needing it anymore.

Carefully, I pull my legs out from under Edward's hand. He stirs a bit, but doesn't wake up.

Quietly, I pull out a bag of coffee from the freezer. I bite my lip as I fill the coffee pot, worried I'm making too much noise. Once it's full, I look over my shoulder at the couch; he hasn't moved.

Once the coffee is brewing, I glance at the clock. It's not even six in the morning yet. I guess all the sleep yesterday was more than enough for me.

And I do feel better. My throat is still a little scratchy and my nose is still stuffy, but I'm not aching all over like I was before. I could feel the cold coming on all week, but thought it was just allergies, and ignored it. I'm really happy Edward came over to help take care of me.

While I wait for coffee, I get out the ingredients to make pancakes. Luckily, I went to the store the other day and got strawberries, so I get those out and cut them up. I take out some eggs, too, and cook some scrambled eggs.

"Whatcha doing?" a sleepy voice asks me as I'm flipping pancakes, making me whirl around, my spatula raised. Edward is standing behind, holding his hands up in surrender. "Whoa! Sorry!"

"You scared me," I say breathlessly, and he laughs. "I'm making breakfast, of course."

"Wait, you're making breakfast...for me?" he asks, coming forward to inspect.

"What's wrong with that?" I ask sadly.

"Nothing, it's just..." He stops with a shrug, picking up a slice of strawberry between his fingertips and popping it into his mouth. He places his hand to my forehead and smiles before nodding once and then pulling back.

"Just what?" I ask, raising my brow.

He finishes his bite, looks down and then peeks up at me with a crooked smile.

"No one has ever made me breakfast before."

* * *

><p>Awwww! Who wants a sweet Edward to help take care of them? *raises hand*<p>

A few people asked if Bella really was going to go on 12 dates. That was my plan at first, but since I don't stick to my outlines when I get writing, that plan kinda disappeared. But then I thought about it and decided that each little encounter Bella and Edward have is a lot like a date each time (even when Edward is picking up yucky tissues of the floor. Ew!) See ya tomorrow!


	7. Chapter 7: Christmas Tree

_I know I promised two chapters today, but I took the kid Christmas shopping with me today and then I spent the whole afternoon wrapping gifts and trying to get him to do his school project due when he gets back from break, so I'm just spent. Tomorrow, though, he's going to Grandma's and all I have to do is buy one last present and then I'm free until Wednesday evening! Yay! Plenty of uninterrupted writing time! _

_I hope you like this chapter. See you at the bottom!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 7: Christmas Tree<strong>

I sit on the couch, staring at the same page in my book that I've been on for the past ten minutes. I just can't concentrate; I'm waiting for Edward to come back, as promised. He had said that he wanted to go home, shower, and change, and that he'd be back with a surprise for me.

Finally, there's a knock on the door.

I fly off the couch, throwing my book down behind me, and race to the door. I take a moment to calm my breathing and to smooth my hair and then throw open the door.

"Hey," I say breathlessly.

"Get your coat," Edward says in the way of a greeting. "And gloves. And hat. And scarf."

"Oh, um, okay," I say, stepping back so he can come in.

"It's like forty degrees out and you're still sick," he says, standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I say waving my hand at him. I hear him smirk while I search for my hat.

"Come on, we gotta hurry!" he says impatiently as I gather up my things.

"All right, I'm hurrying," I grumble at him as I find my hat and shove it onto my head.

"Good, let's go," he says, holding my gloves so I can tie my scarf around my neck. "By the way, nice color."

He holds up my purple gloves, which match the scarf and hat.

"Thanks," I tell him, wiggling my fingers into the warm gloves. "I made them myself."

"You knit?" he asks, sounding impressed.

"Crochet," I correct, and he nods.

"I can tie my shoes," he says proudly. I can't help but throw my head back and laugh.

"Good for you," I say once I've calmed down.

Edward leads me to his car, a shiny, black, fancy thing. He presses a button to unlock it, and then holds the door open for me. Inside, the interior is all dark gray leather. The dash doesn't have the buttons I'm used to, but instead has a single touch screen.

"Wow," I say when he joins me. "Nice ride."

"It's the first big thing I bought when the restaurant started making money," he says, turning the car on. The heater is on full blast; he turns it down quickly.

"Wait, what?" I ask, confused.

"Yeah, it took a good year and a half," he says, and when he looks over at me as he puts the car in drive, he notices my bewildered expression. "What?"

"Do you... own the restaurant?" I ask.

"Well, yeah," he says nonchalantly. "You didn't know?"

"You never mentioned it," I point out.

"Huh," he says, and I roll my eyes.

"Where are we going?" I ask as we head toward the outskirts of town.

"You'll see," he says slyly.

After a few minutes, we turn down a dirt road, following signs with red arrows painted on them. Edward slows the car down and then we park next to a sign that says _Holloway Farms_.

"We're here," he says, shutting off the car and coming around to my side before I can voice my next question.

"Where's here?" I ask, allowing him to lead me out.

I gasp when I see the rows and rows of trees stretching the length of a football field. People mill around them, some with young children, touching the needles of the fir trees. I watch as a teen with a red shirt with _Holloway Farms_ printed on the back starts a small chainsaw and begins cutting down the tree as a young couple watches.

As we walk toward a small wooden building about the size of a shed, a tractor drives by, pulling a long, flat bed trailer loaded with trees and a few young kids. Their parents trail behind, every once in a while cautioning their kid to sit still while the tractor is in motion.

I wait at the bottom of the steps of the little red building while Edward talks to the employee inside, watching an older gentleman and the same teen with the saw pick up a tree together and push it through a large wooden circle. When it comes out the other side, the tree is encased in a green net.

"Let's go," Edward says when he appears at my side.

"Go where?" I ask, following him nonetheless.

"To find a tree," he says, glancing back over his shoulder at me with a crooked grin.

"But, I told you, it won't fit in my apartment," I say, jogging a little to catch up.

"You can keep it at my place," he shrugs, as though the answer is obvious. "Now, come on, before all the good trees are gone!"

Without further objections, I fall into step beside him and we walk down the dirt path between two rows of trees of all different sizes. Every once in a while we come across a stump.

"What are the tags for?" I ask as I notice the different colored tags attached to the branches of the trees. Some tags are torn in half.

"They indicate the price," Edward says, pausing and fingering a gold tag. "This one is sixty bucks."

"Geez," I mumble, finding another tree labeled the same price.

"This one is only twenty five, since it's smaller," Edward says, holding a pink tag. "And if they're torn, that means someone has bought it."

I nod and start checking out the different tags, marveling at the one that's over seven feet tall and costs a hundred dollars.

"Hey, how about this one?" I ask, coming across a nicely shaped tree.

"Yeah, not bad," Edward agrees, circling it, but then he frowns. "Ah, but it has a lot of brown needles near the bottom. This one is nice."

He moves over to another, slightly taller, tree and I follow.

"I like it, but there's a lot of bald spots," I tell him, leaning over to look.

"Oh, you're right," he says, but then his eyes fall upon another one. "This one is okay. Damn, but the trunk is kind of short."

"Man, this is hard," I pout, making him chuckle.

"It is, but when we find the right one, you'll just know," he says, moving along the row. "It's like a feeling or something."

"So... why are you getting me a tree?" I ask him, running my fingers along the needles of the trees as we walk.

"You told me you didn't have one," he says, putting his hands the pockets of his jeans as we walk. "And that you wanted one."

"I do want one," I murmur quietly.

"You never said why, though," he says just as softly.

I think through my answer before I say it, wanting to gather my thoughts before giving away this particular part of my life. I don't normally share it.

"Growing up, my mom's favorite holiday was Christmas," I say slowly. "Every year, a month before Christmas Eve, my mom would decorate the whole house in bows and garland and glitter. I remember it being really pretty. After a while, I looked forward to it just as much as she did. What she liked the best, though, was going out in search of a tree.

"Then, when I was about ten, my parents started fighting. It started just after Thanksgiving. My dad had lost his job, and my mom wasn't working at the time, so we were strapped for money. They yelled at each other for at least an hour, while I hid under my covers upstairs. I think they thought I was asleep."

I stop for a second; Edward gives me time to continue.

"This went on for the next year," I say, my voice dropping so low that I'm not sure if he can hear me. "Until she had had enough—or maybe it was dad who was done, I was never really sure—and she ran upstairs, locked my dad out of the bedroom and began packing. At six in the morning the next day, a week before Christmas, she left. I watched from my bedroom window. My dad never talked about her again, and neither did I. That Christmas he bought a fake tree. He still has it."

When I finish my story, we still don't talk. We've reached the end of the row and I stop, not sure which way to go. Edward stops too, and I can feel his eyes on me. I start to turn in the opposite direction, mumbling something about looking down the next row, when a hand shoots out to grab my arm.

Edward spins me around and gathers me into his chest, wrapping his long arms around me. I feel myself melt into him as my hands clasp behind his back. We stand there, just holding each other. A single tear makes its way down my cheek. He hears my sniffle and pulls back, giving me a sweet smile.

"This year will be better," he says, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

I give him a watery smile and then nod.

Edward takes a step back and offers me his arm, gentleman style. I choke out a small laugh, wipe my face clean and take it, letting him lead me through the next line of trees.

* * *

><p><em>I love looking for a Christmas tree. For years, my family had a plastic one and when I finally asked mom if we could get a real one (when I was 21 and moved back home) she said that she thought we liked putting together the fake one. I told her we did, but a real one would be cool. I had thought she was allergic lol Any-who. See ya tomorrow!<em>


	8. Chapter 8: Confessions

_I let my free day to myself kinda go to waste. I was a big lazy bum lol It was nice, though. Then, my guy wanted to shop for the kid. That took a lot longer than anticipated... So, I only got one chapter out. It has some answers to some questions, though. Enjoy!_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 8: Confessions<strong>

"Where do you want it?"

"Um, that corner. No! That one! Wait, duh, by the window!"

Edward reaches through the branches of our tree and wraps his fingers around the trunk. He easily lifts it and sets it in my desired spot, turning it so that the fuller side faces the room. He comes to stand next to me, putting his hands on his hips, and admires the tree.

"Looks good," he says with a nod. "Now for the next step."

He leaves the room; I hear a closet door slide open in the back of his large apartment and he comes back moments later with a big cardboard box in his hands. Oh the side of the box is written _Edward's Christmas Stuff_ in neat handwriting.

"Are these your ornaments?" I ask, kneeling down next to him as he sets the box on the floor and pulls the flaps open.

"Yup," he says cheerfully, pulling out a little clear ball painted with tiny red and green fingerprints. "I made this in Kindergarten. Oh, and this one is from fourth grade."

He picks up a crumpled wreath made out of construction paper.

"Back then, I wrote pretty much everything in cursive, even when my mom told me that I didn't need to," he says with a chuckle, pointing to his name written in loopy letters on the back of the wreath. I can see where he made a mistake and tried to go back and fix it.

"Very impressive," I say, nodding.

"I thought so, too," he says, shaking his head with a smile.

"I like this one," I say, picking up a little crystal angel nestled in bubble-wrap.

"That was my mom's," he says softly. "My dad got it for her the Christmas after I was born."

"It's beautiful," I breathe. I stand up and hang it on the tree first, near the top. I then turn to Edward with a question. "Where's your dad?"

"He, um..."

Edward pauses, looking down at his inner left arm. I take a few steps closer until I'm close enough to read the tattoo he's tracing. It reads _No More_.

"I'm sorry, I won't pry," I say, picking up the box of candy canes we bought and turning back toward the tree.

"It's okay," Edward says, and I feel his hand on my wrist, pulling me back.

I let him pull me back down to the floor. I sit cross-legged and put the candy canes on the floor next to me, giving Edward my full attention. Just as he was patient with me, I don't rush him. I sit perfectly still and wait.

"When I was a teenager, Bella, I wasn't the same as I am now," he says, his eyes still on the tattoo. "After my mom died, I rebelled. Big time. My dad let me; he knew I was grieving. Years later I realized there were a million other ways I could have done it. But back then, I was an asshole. It didn't matter what my dad did to try to help me, I was just a big fuck up."

I bite my lip to keep the words from escaping my mouth. I can't believe that he was ever the jerk he makes it seem like he was.

"Most nights, I didn't come home," he continues with a sigh. "I wish I had. I could only think about myself; I didn't even think about the fact that my dad needed someone too."

"Where did you go?" I ask without thinking.

"Anywhere but home," he says, shrugging. "The skate park, college parties, friend's houses... No one asked why I was partying so hard. They just kept passing me the blunt or the bottle.

"Then, when I was eighteen, I got in a huge fight with dad. He was asking me about college again, telling me that I needed to pick a major before I graduated. I fought back, accusing him of all kinds of shit, blaming him for things he didn't do but that I was angry about nonetheless.

"I took off. Once we were done screaming at each other, I just left. Or at least I tried to. Dad stopped me. He asked me to go cool down, and to come back when I was ready to talk. I remember stopping in the doorway and turning to him, slowly. He looked so calm, like he hadn't just been yelling at me moments earlier. He just looked... tired."

Edward pauses and allows his fingers to lace into mine. He looks down at them thoughtfully. I feel my heart flutter at his touch.

"Something clicked in my brain," he says quietly. "That look on his face finally made me realize that he was hurting, too, and that I put a lot of that pain there. He told me to take my time doing whatever it was that I needed to do. I had planned on going to another fraternity party, but instead I decided to ask my friends over to the skate park, to let off some steam. I told Dad I'd be home in a couple hours. He told me that he was going to go for a drive to clear his head."

I suck in a sharp breath, knowing what's going to happen next. I let him tell me, though.

"Luckily, I remembered to charge my cell that night," Edward says, tracing his tattoo with his right forefinger. "I got a call telling me that Dad had been hit by a drunk driver. He was killed on impact. The driver took off and tried to dump the car in a ditch, but the cops followed his broken tire trail and caught him. It was the guy's third offense; he was behind bars for years."

"Edward, I'm so sorry," I whisper, feeling a tear run down my face. Edward hears the gloominess in my voice and looks up with a sad smile.

"We made up right before he left," he says, wiping away my tear with his fingertips. "I find comfort in that."

"What happened after that?" I ask, hoping there's a happy ending.

"I found out he had a college fund set up for me," Edward says, perking up. "A pretty big one, too. So, I followed in his footsteps, went to culinary school and became a chef. A pretty damn good one, if I say so myself. I had a great teacher growing up."

We both laugh and then I look down at his arm.

"And the tattoo?" I ask, running my own finger along the ink.

"I got it the same night he died," he says, watching my finger move. "From that day on, I didn't touch another drink or do any more drugs."

"Wow," I whisper. I tilt my head and look at the heart on his thumb. "Does this mean something, too?"

"It does," he says slowly. "But I think that's a story for another night."

"Fair enough," I say with a smile. "Well, now what?"

"I'm not sure," he says, his expression clouding again. "At times like these, my mom would make some hot cocoa to cheer me up."

"That was what my mom used to make when she decorated!" I say excitedly.

"I could never get her recipe right, though," Edward contemplates. "I've tried a million times, but I could never get it as good as she did."

"I make a mean cup of hot cocoa," I say, raising my eyebrow. He raises one back.

"Is that a challenge?" Edward asks, sitting up straighter.

"I believe it is," I say, lifting my chin.

"You're on!"

Edward drags me playfully by the hand into the kitchen, not letting go until we reach the pantry. He begins pulling out pans and large wooden spoons, while I raid the food pantry for ingredients.

When all our supplies are ready, we both start cooking, shoving each other jokingly as we move around the room. I giggle like a stupid moron the entire time.

"Done!" Edward calls out just before I finish.

"Me... too," I say, dropping the last mini marshmallow on top of my cocoa.

We swap mugs, lift them in a toast, and each take a drink.

My God, I've never tasted cocoa so thick and creamy. It has just the right amount of whipped cream on top, and just a hint of cinnamon. Edward moans as he tastes his and I grin.

"This is it," he says in amazement. "This is exactly like my mom used to make!"

"It is?" I ask, both proud and astonished.

"Yes!" he says, taking another sip. "It has the perfect amount of chocolate in it without making it so sweet that I get a dozen cavities, but sweet enough to make my tongue tingle."

"You're cute," I giggle, and then freeze when I think of what I just said.

"So are you," he says with a smirk, reaching out a finger to wipe the whipped cream from my upper lip.

I blush so hard that my face is probably hotter than the cocoa.

* * *

><p><em>A reader told me that they recc'd this fic over in the Fic Dive. Wow... I've never been recommended before on a site like that! Another review said that it's severely underrated. All the love for this story makes me smile and want to keep writing. Thank you everyone for the love! See you tomorrow for TWO chapters (I mean it this time!)<em>


	9. Chapter 9: Company Party

_Happy Christmas Eve! I can't believe there's only 4 (well, 3 if you don't count this one) chapters left until my little fic is done. Again, the love for this fic has blown me away and every awesome review makes me happy that I decided to write this. _

_I'll warn ya... this chapter doesn't have as much Edward in it as some of the others, but don't worry. The next chapter will be chock full. Trust me._

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 9: Company Party<strong>

Edward and I are sitting at the counter in his apartment, eating sandwiches, and just enjoying each others company. We finished decorating the tree the night before, and of course, stayed up all night talking, so today we're too tired to do more than relax.

We're discussing our movie night, trying to decide if we should watch our chosen Christmas movies tonight or tomorrow night, when his cell rings.

"Hey, Tanya, what's up?" he says into the phone, stealing a chip off my plate. I glare at him as he crunches the bite. He winks, but then frowns. "What do you mean? He can't take the night off! I already told him that he requested New Year's off, and that I really couldn't give him both. He agreed!"

Edward huffs and rolls his eyes at the phone.

"He's fucking sick, huh?" he scoffs. "He did this last year, too, remember? He better bring a fucking doctor's note in if he expects me to believe his shitty excuse. All right, I'll call you later."

He hangs up and sighs, running his hands through his hair and then down the sides of his face. He looks over at me with a wry smile.

"Sorry, Bella," he says, sighing again. "One of my servers called in sick, so I don't think I'll be able to hang out tonight."

"Oh," I say quietly, looking down at my plate. "It's okay, I understand."

"I really don't want to go in, but Jessica left yesterday to visit her parents, and they live out of state, so I can't call her in," he says in a rush, leaning toward me. "Believe me, if I could find someone else to cover, I would, but Christmas Eve is always packed, and-"

"Don't worry about it," I tell him, trying to act like it's no big deal, when I suddenly remember what tonight is.

"What?" Edward asks warily, seeing the uncertainty in my face.

"Well, tonight is the company Christmas party," I tell him, nervously avoiding his gaze. "And I thought about asking you to come with me."

"Damn," he murmurs, and I think for a moment that he's going to say he wouldn't have gone anyways when he continues to say, "I would have gone, too."

"You would have?" I ask incredulously, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Of course I would have," he says, laughing. "Why wouldn't I want to go?"

"I dunno," I mumble, shrugging and feeling embarrassed.

"I really wish I could go," he tells me sincerely, his green eyes wide and imploring.

"I know," I tell him, setting my hand on top of his. "Maybe Alice can come with me."

"Only if she fends off the other guys for me," he says, flipping his hand over to squeeze mine.

"Don't worry, she will," I laugh.

He stares straight into my eyes, not blinking, and I can't look away. After a few, I let out a shaky breath, not realizing before that I wasn't breathing. The gust of air seems to break his concentration.

"I should get ready for work," he says quietly, looking away. "Just leave the dishes, I'll do them later."

"Okay," I say simply. I reluctantly let go of his hand and get ready to leave.

"I'll call you tonight," he promises as he walks me to the door.

Walking to my car, alone, I can't help but feel depressed.

* * *

><p>"Bella, stop fussing, you look great," Alice says, tugging my hand away from my neatly curled hair.<p>

"I hate going to this party," I whine, dropping into my makeup chair.

"I know you do, but at least I'll be there," Alice says, pulling a sparkly necklace out of my jewelry box.

"No offense, Ali," I say, holding my hair out of the way and allowing her to clasp the necklace around my neck. "But you weren't my first choice."

"Again, I know it," she says, giggling. I drop my hair down and she rearranges the curls. "Its either that or you have Aro giving you those creepy eyes all night."

"Ugh," I groan, remembering the way the director of the company looked at me last year once he got a few drinks in him.

"There, you're done," Alice tells me, giving my hair one last fluff.

I let Alice drive me to the banquet hall that the magazine I work for, The Weekly Chronicle, is holding the party at, all the while playing moodily with the hem of my dark blue dress. Once we're there, Alice gives me a moment to prepare myself, and then we both put a big fake smile on our faces and walk in, arm in arm.

The room is decked out in blue and silver streamers, with silver balloons as center pieces at each table. One side of the room is lined with a drink station—champagne, wine, soda, water—and another side has a table covered in appetizers—veggies and dip, fruit, fancy bacon wrapped things—and there's a big empty space in the middle of the room for dancing. There's already a few people on the hardwood floor, dancing to the eighties music the DJ is playing.

"Oh, God, there he is," I mumble to Alice when I spot Aro. At the moment, he's chatting to the newest intern, so I take the opportunity to search for an empty table hiding in the back of the room.

When I find one, Alice and I make our way around the room, nodding politely to the people that greet us, until we reach the table.

"All right," I say, setting my purse on the table as Alice does the same. "We should be late enough that dinner should be starting any minute."

"Okay, you go get drinks, and I'll save our spots," Alice tells me as we shrug out of our coats and drape them over the backs of our chairs. "I'll do some rearranging, too, so it looks like the other seats at our table are already taken."

"Good idea," I tell her.

I maneuver my way quickly across the room, taking a complicated route to where the drinks are. I only get stopped once by my manager, asking me for my latest piece, but I fend him off by telling him that my date is waiting for me, and that I'd rather not talk shop tonight.

When I get back to the table clutching two glasses of white wine, Alice is no longer alone. An incredibly handsome man is sitting at the table with her, dressed in a dark gray suit and there's already a glass of bubbly in front of her.

"Well, well, who's this?" I joke as I sit down.

"Bella, this is Jasper," Alice says in her flirty voice. "He said I looked lonely."

"You were only alone for two minutes," I laugh. "Hi, Jasper. Do we work together?"

"No," he says, turning his charming smile on me now. "I'm Charlotte's cousin. She let me crash the party tonight, since I had nothing better to do."

"Oh, Charlotte in the editing room?" I ask, and Jasper nods, his bright blue eyes twinkling. "Well, I like her, so you're more than welcome."

Jasper laughs, and Alice joins in with her girlish giggle. I refrain from rolling my eyes at her.

About ten minutes later, men in black bow-ties roam the room, carrying trays of food. They begin setting plates of chicken and vegetables in front of each seat, and offer additional drinks. I abandoned my wine long ago, not really wanting to drink alone tonight, and ask for a coke instead.

Not feeling hungry, I pick at my chicken, pushing it around the plate. I try to ignore Alice, who's seriously crushing on this guy (I can't really blame her; he's freaking adorable) so I let her have her night. The few times that someone does try to come by our table to talk with me, she's the good friend and quickly brings me into their conversation, effectively keeping anyone from bothering us.

By the time dessert comes around, I'm ready to leave. Normally, I come to the annual party just to make my boss happy, but tonight, I'm not feeling it.

"Hey, Ali?" I say, and she leans away from Jasper to talk to me, the smile he put on her face still there. "Can we leave after this? Please?"

She hears the desperation in my voice, and though her smile does falter a little, she nods.

"Yeah, sure," she says, hitching her smile back into place. "Just tell me when, B."

I watch the waiters come back around, now carrying platters of cupcakes. As I try to decide whether I want chocolate with strawberries on top, or vanilla with chocolate curls, a waiter suddenly appears in front of me.

"Cupcake?" he says, the tray held high, blocking his face. All I can see of him is a crisp black suit, and long, black tie.

"Yes, please," I say. "The vanilla, please."

"You'd like the chocolate one better," the man says, slowly lowering the tray.

"Edward!" I gasp when his grinning face is revealed.

"Surprise!"

* * *

><p><em>Now, I know what some of you will say-Alice is being a bad friend. But sometimes you can't help it when you find The One. She did do her best to include Bella, but Bella is being a bit of a downer, so not much will cheer her the end, Edward came to the rescue. See you later tonight!<em>


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas Eve

_I know it's late but I hope every one is having/has had a great Christmas Eve. My family and I tracked Santa online, watched a little bit of Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas and drove around to look at Christmas lights. Then, when the kid finally went to sleep, I got to writing! _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter. See you at the bottom!_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 10: Christmas Eve<strong>

"What are you doing here?" I ask Edward. I can't stop smiling; I can't believe he's here!

Before he can answer, Alice giggles madly—and not her flirty laugh, but her laugh that's supposed to sound evil but can't because Alice is just too cute.

"I called him," she says, grinning just as broadly as I am.

"I got lucky," Edward says, sitting in the chair next to me and scooting it closer. "A party of ten was supposed to come in for dinner, but they canceled right before Alice called. She told me where you guys were and that she would try to stall until I could get here."

"And Jasper?" I ask, turning to the tall blonde. "Were you in on this, too?"

"Nope," he says, looking down at Alice. "I just got lucky, too."

Alice blushes, which is odd for her. She must really like him. I turn my attention back to Edward, still floored he's here.

"I thought you were one of the waiters," I laugh, shaking my head.

"That was a coincidence," Edward says, picking up his tie as he looks down at it. "Alice said this was a pretty fancy event, so I grabbed my best suit. I had no idea that I'd fit right in."

"Well, now what?" I ask. I had been so keen to leave a few minutes ago, but now I would do anything, as long as this man was by my side.

"_We're _going to go dance," Alice announces, grabbing Jasper's hand and bouncing to her feet.

"Do you know how to dance?" I call out after a confused looking Jasper.

"We'll see," he calls back to me.

"And then there were two," I say to Edward. I pick up my cupcake and peel off the liner.

"So, what were you doing before I showed up?" Edward asks, stealing a strawberry off my dessert.

"Trying to convince Ali that it was time to leave," I say, sticking my finger in the frosting and wiping it on Edward's nose. "_That's_ for stealing my strawberry."

He crosses his eyes, making me giggle, and tries to lick off the frosting with his tongue. He can't quite reach and ends up giving up with a fake pout. I take pity on him and wipe it off with a napkin.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks suddenly, just as the DJ starts playing some classic Christmas music. Dean Martin's voice plays through the speakers, crooning the lyrics to _Winter Wonderland_.

"I don't know..." I hedge, biting the corner of my lip.

"Don't worry," he assures me, holding his hand out for me to take. "It's all in the lead."

I let Edward take me out to the dance floor. The moment our feet hit the hardwood, he has me spinning. We turn, and dip, and sway across the room, Edward taking control the entire time. It's not long before I'm laughing and actually following his footsteps, once I get a decent rhythm.

The song ends, blending seamlessly into the next one. Its a slow one, only featuring the piano.

Edward pulls me to his body; I can feel his heart beating swiftly against my own rapidly beating one. His right hand clutches my left, and his left sits gently on my lower back. I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh.

"This is nice," I tell him, closing my eyes. "I don't remember the last Christmas Eve I had where I was happy."

"Same here," he murmurs into my hair.

We softly sway from side to side, listening to the music.

"Hey Bella?" Edward says after a while.

"Hmm?"

"I wanted to let you know," he says, but pauses. I can't help but look up at him, surprised by his tender tone. "I wanted to tell you that I like you."

"Um, okay?" I say stupidly, not sure where he's going with this.

"I don't think I can be your friend," he says.

"Oh," I say, hurt lacing my tone. I begin to untangle myself from him, but he holds me tight.

"Because that's not enough," he says urgently. "It's been a long time but... I think I'm falling for you. And I don't know what to do about that."

"Oh," I say yet again, at a loss for words.

"It's just..." he stops, pulling his left hand off my waist and showing me the tiny heart on his thumb. "I hurt someone before. I had a serious girlfriend, right after my dad died, and I thought I was going to marry her. But I wasn't ready. It was all going too quick; I wanted to be happy, and I thought I had that with her, so I jumped into things. We broke it off a week before the wedding. She was crushed. After that, I sabotaged every relationship I had with a woman, never realizing it until it was too late.

"I don't want to hurt you, Bella. Please know that."

"I know," I whisper, putting my hand on the little inked heart.

"I can't stay away from you," he says.

"That's okay, I don't want you to," I tell him; he cracks a smile.

"What do we do now?" he asks.

"We'll take it slow," I answer.

"Slow?" he asks doubtfully.

"Yeah," I say with a small smile. "If at any time either of us feels like we're moving too quickly, just say something. Then, we'll take it from there."

"It's been a long time," he tells me again.

"For me, too," I tell him, and he gives me one of his crooked smiles.

We've stopped moving by now, and I look up, seeing something out of the corner of my eye. We somehow moved ourselves toward the corner of the room, right under some hanging leaves.

"Mistletoe," I say quietly.

Edward's green eyes darken, and his forehead creases a little. Slowly, he leans toward me, and I hold my breath, waiting until he presses his lips softly to mine.

It's a simple kiss, sweet and innocent but something sparks deep within me. Butterflies erupt in my stomach and though I'm sure the kiss only lasts seconds, it feels like hours. My eyes flutter close until he eventually pulls back. I look up at him, seeing him looking at me with his eyes only half closed, as though he's thinking very hard about something.

"What?" I ask when he doesn't say anything.

"You taste like strawberries," he says and I burst out laughing.

"Is that bad?" I ask, letting out a little snort.

"Nope, I love strawberries," he says, laughing with me.

We stand there, laughing like idiots for a few minutes, until Alice catches my eye from across the dance floor. Jasper is holding her tight in his arms, much like Edward had been doing with me mere moments ago. She smiles and gives me the thumbs up. I grin at my little friend.

"She looks happy," Edward says, following my gaze.

"Yeah, she does," I say, sighing. "She deserves it."

"So do you," Edward says in a low voice.

"So do we," I clarify, lacing my fingers into his.

* * *

><p><em>If for some reason I don't get a chance to get the last two chapters out tomorrow during the day, they'll come out late at night (or at least one will) or at the very latest, the next day. Tomorrow, after we open gifts at home, we're going to our parent's house (him and his kid to his and me to mine... with the dog). So, if I don't see ya tomorrow, I want every one to have a safe and fun holiday. Happy Christmas, everyone!<em>


	11. Chapter 11: Movie Night

_Hello, everyone! How was your Christmas? Mine was pretty great with the exception of the kid getting a fever Christmas Eve and my guy wasn't feeling great on Christmas day. Today, I've felt off—kinda grumpy, very cold and not much of an appetite. But, the lovely Leibeezer did ask if I was going to update and I did say I would so here it is. I hope you like it!_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Movie Night<strong>

After the party, Edward offers to drive me home. After he asks, I sit in his car and think for a moment.

"How about we watch that movie of yours?" I suggest.

"Really?" he asks excitedly, turning to me with a huge smile.

"Why not," I say, and then hold up a finger sternly. "But you said I could pick the snacks."

"That I did," he mumbles with a soft chuckle.

We drive to a nearby deserted 7-11. As we walk around the small store, we hold hands like teenagers. I almost giggle a few times at the cute little smile on his face. Clearly, he's just as giddy about us as I am.

"All right, I have one condition with the snacks," Edward says as we browse the candy aisle.

"You didn't tell me that there were conditions," I say, raising a brow and popping a hip, my hand resting on it.

"It's really just one," he says, so I wave my hand for him to continue. "Nothing with coconut in it. Coconut's gross."

"Ugh, coconut was never on the menu tonight," I agree, wrinkling up my nose in disgust.

"Good," Edward says, as though satisfied that I followed his one rule.

I roll my eyes and turn my attention to the candy. Chewing on my thumbnail, I weigh my choices.

"Hmm, well, if we get the Kit Kat, we can share," I muse while Edward watches in fascination. "But I kinda feel like having the peanut butter cups."

"Get both," Edward tells me, grabbing the chocolates. "And I doubt I'll share the Kit Kat, so we better get two."

"Okay, fair enough," I say, leading him toward the chip section. "What about chips? What do you like?"

"For the most part, I like barbeque flavored anything," he says, picking up a bag of Lays.

"I like Pringles," I say, grabbing the long tube of chips. "The sour cream and onion kind is the best. Oh, wait..."

I stop and bite my lip.

"What's wrong?" he asks, frowning.

"If I eat these," I say, looking down at the snack. "Will there still be kisses?"

Edward laughs loudly, scaring the girl working the counter so bad that I hear her drop a bunch of change from the register on the floor.

"God, you amaze me, Bella," he says, shaking his head and wrapping his arm around my waist. "I would kiss you even if you tasted like coconut."

"Which I _never_ will," I point out, making him laugh again, though quieter this time.

"True," he says, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on my lips.

We stare at each other in a very sappy way for a minute until the girl at the register grumpily throws the dropped coins noisily into the till.

"What else?" I ask, as Edward grabs a bag of plain potato chips.

"These, just in case we get tired of the other ones," he says, holding the bag up for me to see. "And I think we should go back over to the candy and get some M&Ms."

"Can we get milk chocolate _and_ dark chocolate?" I ask.

"Sure," he tells me when we're next to the candy again.

"But they can't touch," I tell him firmly.

"What?" he asks blankly.

"Dark and milk chocolate are not meant to be together," I say, putting on my mock serious face as he slowly picks them up, still listening to my crazy reasoning. "That's why they're different flavors."

"If you say so?"

"I do say so."

With a nod, I walk toward the sodas. I can hear Edward laugh under his breath behind me.

"Coke or Pepsi?" I ask when we reach the drinks.

"Coke, duh," he says smartly. "But should we got those, or Eggnog."

"Oh, that's a hard one," I say, biting my nail again. Edward reaches over and pushes my hand gently away, making my blush.

"How about we have the Eggnog tomorrow night, after Christmas dinner?" Edward says, now holding the hand with the nail I was biting.

"Dinner?" I ask, my stomach tingling.

"Yeah, just you and me," he shrugs. "What do you say?"

"I say yes," I tell him, grinning. "Tonight, let's get some Cokes and a couple bottles of water for after."

"You got it," he says, opening the large fridge doors and pulling out our preferred drinks.

By now, we're carrying so many snacks that we can't hold hands anymore. So, we quickly take our things up to the counter, pay the grumpy girl and walk out, Edward holding the two bags of goodies in one hand, and my hand in the other.

* * *

><p>"Holy crap, how many layers does that kid need?"<p>

Sitting on the couch in Edward's apartment, with our shoes kicked off, we watch A Christmas Story. I was already loving it for it's awesome eighties vibe but now I'm in hysterics at all the crazy antics this family gets up to.

"That's something my mom would have done," Edward says while I giggle at the mom adding a scarf to the little brother's outfit.

I can't tell if he's been laughing at the movie or at my reactions.

"Mine, too," I tell him, looking up from my spot under his arm to smile at him.

We continue to enjoy the movie—though I hate the part with the kid getting his tongue stuck to the frozen pole—until we get to the part about Raphie, the main character, seeing Santa.

"You'll shoot your eye out, kid," the mall Santa says in response to the kid's desire for a beebee gun.

"That poor kid," I say, as the Raphie gets shoved down the slide by the Santa's foot. "If he wanted a beebee gun, well, it would be his own fault for shooting his eye out. Tough love, man."

"You're hilarious," Edward says, shaking his head.

"I'm kidding," I say, waving my hand at him. "Though, he totally would have learned his lesson."

"That's something my dad would say," Edward says. "I'll give you a spoiler though... he does get one and _almost_ shoots his eye out."

I make a _tsk, tsk_ sound with my tongue.

"Hey, do we have any more dark chocolate?" I ask Edward, leaning forward to go through our trash on the coffee table.

"Nope, you ate it all," Edward says. I turn and give him a playful glare. "You can have the last peanut butter cup."

"Wise choice," I say, relaxing back into the couch and unwrapping the chocolate he offers me. After a few minutes of watching the movie, I have a random question. "If you could eat only one type of candy for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

"Mars Bars," Edward answers promptly.

"What kind of candy is that?" I ask, twisting around to look at him.

"It's almost like a Milky Way," he explains. "It's a milk chocolate bar with nougat, caramel and almonds inside."

"Never heard of it," I say, knowing the name sounds familiar though.

"My dad went to Europe when I was a kid, to study cooking, and he brought one back to me," he reminiscences. "I was about nine. It was the best candy bar I ever had. The United States had it for a while, too, but they discontinued it in 2002."

"I wonder if you can still find it here," I think out loud.

"It's hard to find," Edward tells me, pulling the blanket off the back of his couch to cover us up. "I once saw it at a Fish 'n Chips shop. I bought about five of them."  
>I laugh but then let out a huge yawn.<p>

"Want to lie down?" Edward asks, lifting the blanket off his lap and gently laying me down.

"I promise I'll keep watching," I say sleepily, stretching my legs out and humming as he begins stroking my hair.

"It's okay, just rest," he whispers. "We'll watch it again sometime."

I smile at the thought.

I watch Ralphie and his family tearing through their presents, giggling groggily at the mom dropping a bowling ball into the dad's lap but then my eyes flutter closed and I fall asleep with Edward's fingers in my hair.

* * *

><p><em>This chapter was really difficult to get to. I didn't even get three hundred words in when our puppy started wander around, looking for trouble. He's now moved out of the sleeping all the time stage and has progressed to the chewing on everything he finds stage. So, I played tug-o-war with him for a few but after he started chewing on the cat's face, I shoved him in his cage. My older doggy is happy now and the puppy finally crashed. <em>

_I hope you had fun with this chapter. Tomorrow will be the last one! Eek!_

_I'll be going back and editing one of the chapters. I made a boo boo... I meant for Alice to meet Jasper at the party but forgot that I already mentioned him earlier. Oops! So, I'm going to fix that. Thank you, guest reader for pointing that out to me!_

_Oh, and sorry I was late and double sorry I can't get another chapter out tonight but I think I just need to curl up and get some rest. I've had a headache all day. I'll see you lovelies tomorrow!_


	12. Chapter 12: Christmas Day

_I can't believe how much love this little fic of mine has gotten! I've never had so many emails in a week hehe. It's been amazing... but, unfortunately, it's come to an end. I do hope that my new readers will stick around for my next adventure. Until then, here's the final chapter of The 12 Dates of Christmas._

_Oh, and if you were wondering... if you count the bad dates and the Edward dates, she's been on a grand total of 12._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter 12: Christmas Day<strong>

I wake up feeling very disoriented. An unfamiliar blanket slides off of me and I look around in a mild panic. But then, I look at the coffee table littered in candy wrappers and chip bags and remember.

I'm still at Edward's.

I sit up fully and rub my eyes. Honestly, I just had one of the best sleeps I've had in a long time. I feel refreshed and comfortable, like when you fall asleep right when you wanted to and wake up just in time to get ready for work only to remember it's your day off. It's a wonderful feeling.

"Morning, sunshine," Edward says as he walks into the room, carrying two mugs of coffee. He hands one to me and then sits down on the couch. He's dressed in a fitted t-shirt; my eyes roam his tattoos, taking in the ink.

"Morning," I say, making a noise of content as I sip the hot drink.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, brushing a tangled lock off hair off my face.

"I slept like a baby," I tell him. "What about you? Did your leg fall asleep while I slept on it?"

He chuckles and takes a drink. Once he's swallowed, he shakes his head.

"No, actually," he says. "About five minutes after you went to sleep, I had to play Santa."

"Play Santa?" I ask, tilting my head curiously.

Without a word, Edward nods at the tree. Underneath the lower branches, there's a big, rectangular box with a pink ribbon tied around it.

"But, I didn't get anything for you," I say, my face falling.

"It's okay," he says, brushing more hair off my forehead. "Just having you here is all I need."

I blush, looking down at my lap.

My excitement over the gift overcomes my shyness and I leap off the couch and rush to the tree. I sit next to it, looking up at Edward happily. He looks just as excited as I do.

I pull the ribbon and let it fall away. Lifting the box's lid slowly, I look down at white tissue paper. I brush it away to find deep blue material. I pull it out and hold it at eye level, gasping quietly.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, looking at one of the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.

The dress is sleeveless, with a lace collar and lace covering the shoulder blades. Around the waist is a black satin sash that's tied in a neat bow at the back. Standing, I hold it to my body; the hem hits right around my knees and swishes when I move, like a dancer's dress.

"I love seeing you in blue," Edward says as he stands and walks toward me.

"Yeah?" I ask, suppressing a grin.

"It looks beautiful against your skin," he says, reaching up and brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek. I feel my face tingle at his touch. He lowers his hand with a smirk. "Now, why don't you go take a shower while I make breakfast. There's fresh towels in the cupboard in the bathroom."

* * *

><p>After my shower, I dress in my new clothes and walk out of the bathroom barefoot with my damp hair combed out of my face. I follow the delicious smell of berries and sugar and find Edward setting out two plates filled with crepes covered in strawberries, raspberries and powdered sugar.<p>

"Oh my gosh," I gasp when I reach the table. "I've never had crepes before!"

"Well, after today, you won't have to say that anymore," Edward says, holding up a fork for me.

We eat quietly, just enjoying each others company. When I'm done, I set my fork down and look up at Edward expectantly.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I ask him.

"Well," he says, swallowing his mouthful. "I was thinking of ice skating."  
>"Ice skating?" I say in a squeaky voice.<p>

"Yeah, why not," he shrugs, taking a gulp of coffee. He sees me biting my lip and raises an eyebrow.

"I've never been ice skating," I admit.

"I guess today is a day for firsts," he smiles and then reaches under the table for a bag I hadn't noticed before.

"What's this?" I ask as he hands it to me.

"Just open it," he says in mock irritation.

I put my hand in the tissue paper to find something fuzzy. Pulling it out, I see that he got me black leg warmers and royal blue mittens. Reaching in again, I find what I think are shoes but, when I take them out of the bag, I see silver blades running along the bottom of them.

"You got me my own ice skates?" I ask incredulously.

"Can't skate without them," he says, winking at me.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Bella."<p>

"No!"

"You can't skate unless you come out onto the ice."

"I can't fall if I don't come out onto the ice!"

Edward sighs, gliding toward where I'm clutching the wall at the entrance to the ice rink. He puts one hand on my lower back as his other one attempts to pry my fingers away from the clear glass surrounding the ice.

"You were so brave on the drive here," he says, abandoning his futile attempt to get me off the wall. "What happened?"

"That was before you attached these death traps to my feet!" I say, my teeth chattering quietly. Even though I knew it would be cold, my fear of falling and hurting myself is making me somehow colder.

"Just hold my hand and you'll be fine," he says patiently, scooting away a little and offering a hand to me. "I won't let you fall."

"It's too cold," I whine.

"If you get moving, it'll warm you up, get your blood pumping. Or... maybe this will."  
>Sliding forward, Edward presses his lips firmly to mine. I sigh and relax a little, feeling my fingers fall away from the wall. I open my mouth slightly, inviting him in. His tongue dips in, just the tiniest bit, and brushes against my own. An embarrassing moan escapes my throat.<p>

"There's more where that came from," Edward says lowly, backing up again. "You just need to come and get it."

With a huff, I push myself gently off the wall. My legs shake and I wobble back and forth but I slowly make my way toward Edward's waiting arms. When I get to him, I fall against his chest. He laughs and picks me up until I'm standing relatively straight. We move around the edge of the rink a few times until I've gotten at least a little more balance.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" he asks as we glide around the ice.

"I guess not," I mumble, enjoying the feeling of snuggling into his side.

"Let's try something a little harder," he says deviously.

Spinning around to face me, Edward holds my hands and nothing else as he glides effortlessly backwards. I make a squeaking sound as I wobble again, but I manage to stand somewhat on my own.

"Now, on your own," he tells me.

My eyes grow wide as he gently lets go of me. We continue moving; I start to slow down so I push off with my leg, the same way I would if I were wearing roller blades. The movement propels me forward faster than I anticipated.

With a little screech and a huff, I run smack into Edward and knock us both to the ground. We laugh like idiots—I even snort a little—and lie there until we quiet down.

"Are you okay?" I ask between giggles.

"Yeah, I'm good," he says, lacing his fingers with mine and holding them to his chest. "Bella, can I ask you something?"

His face has suddenly turned serious so I stifle my laughter to hear him out.

"You can ask me anything," I tell him honestly.

"First, I want to tell you that this has been the best week I've had, well, ever," he says, talking quickly. "I wouldn't change anything. But this morning I realized something."

"What?" I ask softly. I'm only vaguely aware of the people skating around us. All my attention is focused on the man below me.

"The nights we spend apart, I miss you more than I thought I would," he says, looking down at our fingers. "I'll admit it. But then this morning... I woke up with you next to me. I really liked that."

"What are you saying, Edward?"

"I'm saying that..." he pauses, takes a deep breath and looks up at me. "Will you move in with me?"

"That's not too fast for you?" I ask, just to make sure.

"Not if it isn't for you."

I stare into his deep green eyes and start to smile.

"It's definitely not too fast for me," I tell him, and his face breaks into the biggest grin I've ever seen.

Letting go of my hands, he reaches out to cup my face and brings my mouth back to his. I giggle around our kiss, and I can feel his smile against my own. He breaks free just long enough to whisper to me.

"Merry Christmas, Bella."

* * *

><p><em>I know this story happened a little later than I meant it to, but I hope I was worth the wait. Though that's the end of Edward and Bella's Christmas, I can't bring myself to push the complete button yet. First, I want to go back and make some little edits and then I was thinking... Hmm, maybe I have an epilogue or two to write. I'm sure no one would have any objections. So, keep an eye out for more of my Tattward. Until then, thank you again for reading. It's been a blast! <em>

_Have a safe and happy new year's! I hope to see you soon! _

_Xoxo_

_-Cherrybomb_


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